


Unrest

by ellu19estewanii



Series: Bumps on the Road [2]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Flashbacks, M/M, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 23:05:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16880964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellu19estewanii/pseuds/ellu19estewanii
Summary: Jazz wakes up from his burial at sea.A sort of ROTF AU in the perspective of the second-in-command if he were alive.Sequel to Unborn.





	Unrest

**Author's Note:**

> I have like, three assignments to finish for tomorrow. My muse likes to act up during times of extreme stress.
> 
> Unbeta'd, probably'll fix later in the future.
> 
> Disclaimer: Transformers and all its characters belong to Habro.  
> Warning: Mentions of fetal homicide/perinatal mortality and suicide.
> 
> -
> 
> Italics – past events
> 
> ‘Italics’ – Inner thoughts
> 
> ‘Bold/Italics’ – Comm link
> 
> ~Italics - Radio talk (some made-up, some taken from actual quotes)

The first thing that happened was a pulse that wreaked through his body.

It was like fire lighting up his systems, bold and bright and overwhelming in its power. The consciousness that seemed to have been stuck in limbo came back to life. Memories that were hazy, floating just at the edge of focus, suddenly turned as sharp and clear as if it happened only moments ago. Jazz came online with a gasp, more out of reflex than actual need for air. Confused, he tried to calm the computer that kept sending diagnostics to the forefront of his visuals, closing windows after pop-up windows.

 

_The bright sun glinted off of silver armour, Cybertronian and untransformed._

_Red eyes, sharp teeth and sharper claws._

_The muffled screams that tried to escape from his mouth._

A memory file played without warning, and Jazz was helpless to the bubbling panic that rose in him.

 

_The wrecked city, the scrambling humans, the sound of jets screeching overhead._

_His downed mate, crawling despite it all, desperate to complete the mission._

_“Just leave me, protect Sam, protect yourself.” Was his last message._

 

The next thing was the water, heavy and cold and oppressive in the darkness. Ice-like prickling wrapped around every sensory node, leaving Jazz with nothing but noise, static and blank against his processor. His limbs locked in place despite feeling them, commanding them to move. His vents whirring despite unnecessarily wasting energy, nothing in his body was willing to listen to Jazz.

_The injuries he had been through, both the small and the excruciating,_

_The numerous close-calls and the overwhelming relief seconds after,_

_The guilty pleasure of inner-faction fraternization,_

_The burden yet satisfying feeling of carrying,_

 

_And having his body ripped apart._

At the sharp feedback of past pain, his body finally headed to his call. His first instinct was to feel the ribbed bumps that was fresh welding right below his chest plates, vents sputtering unevenly at his whimper. He could not stop seeing the brightness of Megatron's teeth, nor could he stop the memory loop that kept playing his demise, nor could he erase the feel of the spark that erratically beat against him in fear.

The sparkling...

Reluctantly, and with a great deal of dread, Jazz dragged his claws down to his abdomen. The sparkling should be nestled in his gestation chamber, comfortably disorganizing his innards to create its protoform.

But he only felt emptiness.

After the pulse of life, after the pressure of the water, the only thing Jazz comprehended was the gut-wrenching feeling of despair.

 

-

 

The ocean surface broke easily under his duress.

It was not immediately clear to Jazz that this was the same earth that he left. As malfunctioning as his systems were from the long exposure of salt and underwater micro-organisms, his receptors still received a bombardment of radio signals from multiple directions. He gratefully tuned in to the closest frequency; a sea boat to the west that was unfortunate enough to be in the way of the Decepticons.

 

_“He’s coming soon, the master of our dear leader Megatron, he wishes for an army,” Scrapmetal gasped in his dying breath, “He won’t be denied his revenge.”_

Jazz mercifully, if rather ruthlessly, deactivated the Constructicon after that, his body forever forgotten on the sea floor. He went on his way to track the group of Decepticons, finding somewhere in himself the will to do what he knew best after a harsh moment of contemplation. Wherever there is conflict with Decepticons, Autobots are surely not far behind. The threadbare of hope that his once-mate was still out there kept him from fully succumbing to his grief.

Thrusters knocked at full force, Jazz hurriedly went to pick up the trail before too many humans come responding to the SOS signal. Though he would have liked to make sure the crew of the boat were safe, the last thing he needed was for Sector-7 to get even a whiff of him. The screams from Bumblebee’s end of their connection was fresh in his processor, no matter how hard the scout tried to wall him off. Jazz focused on getting to land first.

Eventually he managed to catch up to his targets, hidden between the large crates of a large docking port. There was no Megatron among them.

Much to his relief.

Tuning in to their conversation, Jazz thanked his luck that they were choosing this exact time to talk about their impending plan, that the Constructicons rather speak it out than communicating with their links.

Slagheads, the lot of them.

They bemoaned the death of one of their own, but more for the fact that it had left their gestalt unit one limb down. They would have to repurpose a few body parts to make it work. They were sincerely excited that Megatron was back, rather him calling the shots than Starscream they said, not missing the dirty looks they gave each other. Apparently two years is enough to miss out on the hell that was the human-joint Autobot crusade against wiping the Decepticons from the face of this dirtball planet. Then one of them mentioned a prime with an even more revered tone than Jazz could not think possible. Though they did not know the exact specifics of their future directives, they were talking about Sam.

Then they were talking about his yellow guardian. Jazz struggled to contain his shaking.

Bee was alive.

And he was in danger.

Jazz backed away quietly, hoping that the Constructicons were busy and unguarded enough to ignore their surroundings. Suddenly he felt a prickle in the back of his neck, and he knew before he even pulled out his weapon that the someone was alerted to his presence. Still, he unloaded a few shots at the sneaky mechanimal before hightailing out of there. He heard Ravage hissed in pain, hopefully from a bullet lodged to his cranial, and then the ruckus of several pedes rushed his way.

A few Cons he could deal, but he would be a fool to take on more than his share.

It was not a mistake Jazz would make again.

 

-

 

Though his cover was likely blown, it did not look like Jazz was being pursued.

He made sure to change his paint job just in case, even though it was a little flashier than before.

It was a soothing yet exhilarating feel to be back on the road, back to his Solstice form with the sea water out of his hide and the late sun warming his plates. A quick search over the extranet showed Sam’s registration over at Princeton University. It discomforted him that the Autobots and their human allies would leave information like that unguarded. Then again, this planet was never as technologically savvy to begin with. He just wished they would make an exception to the boy that went through a great upheaval for the sake of their faction.

It was going to take him half a cycle to get himself to Princeton. In the meanwhile, he scanned through the web to see what he had missed all these years.

There were articles after articles, long since retracted and several times published in increasingly niche conspiracy forums – many were full of absolute minotron slag, others had a bit more credibility, and some were just a pit full of viruses waiting to destroy the electronics of its unsuspecting victim. He recognized the works of his rival, Soundwave, and carefully worked around them. He could not decide whether he would prefer getting the scope out of TheRealEffingDeal or GiantEffingRobots, though some posts were just copies of one another, word per word.

In the end, Jazz could not help but download the kitten calendars.

He skimmed through one incident after the other, the most recent one being wreckage of buildings and roads that were presumably caused by an earthquake at the outer region of Shanghai, China. There were pictures of what was unmistakably the tacky paint job that is Optimus Prime’s hot rods contrasting against Ironhide’s plain black, even in the cover of night. Jazz almost chuckled, thinking of the white with blue stripes he had on now and wondered if they would have him change it.

He sobered a bit on the thought.

How would his old friends react to him coming back?

Primus, how would Bee feel about it?

_About him._

It was not every day that mechs came back to life, would he be accepted back into a relationship with him? Or would he have moved on and found another mech or femme he fancied? Jazz saw the blurred pictures of three motorcyles, small and lithe with their femme frames, and the attractive mech with the swords. He found himself fearing the answer.

 

 _‘Get yourself together, mech.’_ He scolded himself, _‘It’s not like you expect him to stay dry after you’re gone.’_

Though it is not uncommon for them to seek comfort in casual intimacy from stressful situations, the loss of a bondmate could lead a bot to depression, most of all suicidal. Jazz suppressed a memory feedback of the day at Mission City, he refused to be crippled by the sight of Bumblebee incapacitated under the building. He was comforted in the knowledge that he was even alive and told himself that he would be happy regardless if the yellow mech had left him for another.

Yet, his spark still felt heavy.

For the sake of the Autobots, Jazz continued on his way to New Jersey.

 

-

 

It was near afternoon when Jazz arrived at the entrance of Princeton. Even with his paint job, Jazz was hidden in between all the expensive cars that were driven around the campus. He had underestimated the surroundings of the university, oblivious to the fact that it was a place where a great deal of wealthy students applied.

He counted his blessings.

As Jazz combed through the area, letting himself enjoy the sights around him in the process. He could never resist the chance to soak a bit of the foreign culture and arts. Academia in the planet were more prestigious than it in Old Cybertron, though it niggled on Jazz's processor that many sociological concepts were adapted in humans as it was in mechs. It makes him wonder about their understanding of the All-Spark, or extraterrestrial life in general. Despite his musings, Jazz remained vigilant through his search, and he stilled as he caught an unfamiliar EM field and the vibrations of weapons being shot.

He was a little too late.

Perhaps it was too early to be counting his blessings.

He raced to a parking lot where terrified children were racing out of and spotted a couple of familiar figures in a white car. Pandemonium was wrought in the form of a human-transforming robot – he saw one of those before, rare as they were, _pretenders_. It jumped on the jury-rigged vehicle, hyper focused on grabbing or stabbing a screaming Sam. Before he could intervene, the car started and quickly accelerated away.

Jazz followed the group, not willing to take the risk and shoot the decepticon off. He noticed rather worryingly that the familiar EM signature of Sam’s guardian was nowhere to be found, or any other Autobots even. He sent an anonymous emergency signal to the surrounding area, hoping that there was some bot scouting the area _because why the pit would they leave this boy alone_.

Suddenly, the vehicle rammed itself to a pole, severing the menacing robot in half.

The high-pitched noises stopped.

And Jazz skidded to a halt.

Sam looked out the window, dazed but unharmed, staring at the offlined optics of the Con. Without much preamble, Mikaela backed up and drove away, dead husk of the pretender and all, which prompted Jazz to follow suit.

 _‘Impressive,_ ’ he silently admired. It was a sight to behold. Maybe all Sam needed to do was to keep his girlfriend close, she seemed much more competent in protecting him than he was himself. So, he meandered beside them, putting on a holo he knew they would recognize.

 

“Sam, wasn’t your mom supposed to be in France?”

 

Distraught, Sam was about to start stringing curses and throw one of his shoes before Jazz lifted his insignia. He never saw a face that looked so utterly terrified in one nanosecond and so utterly laxed the next. Jazz gave him a grin, though it was a little unsettling on Judy’s face, Sam waved back enthusiastically.

“Thank Christ you’re here,” The boy started to say, then noticed the type of car Jazz is and gave him a quizzical look, “But uh, who are you? I’m not sure if I’ve seen you around before.”

“I just got here,” The holo shrugged, neither lying or completely honest, “Prime’s transmission led me to this place, told me he needed a hand in keeping you safe.”

 

The scowl on Sam’s face caught Jazz off guard.

 

“Look I’m glad you’re here but we got it covered, could’ve used you five minutes ago but we got this- “

“ _I_ got this.”

“- Mikaela’s got this. I told Bee to stay back for a reason, and I don’t need Optimus to coddle me with another babysitter, or are you here to try and negotiate the ambassador thing with me?”

Maybe it was the holo being his mom, or maybe it was because Jazz could be very scary when he got upset, but Sam dropped his smarmy attitude and quickly shrank back on his seat from the holo's expression.

“Why?” Jazz-as-Judy Witwicky demanded.

 

Not unlike a disapproving parent.

 

“Hey man, you sure that ain’t your mama?” Leo intruded.

There was a moment of speechlessness; Sam, embarrassed that he was being reprimanded by a robot impersonating his parent, and Jazz because,

 

_"Bee, you're going to be a father!" The excitement was palpable, "I can't believe this! A - Jesus Christ - holy-"_

_“Father?” Bumblebee asked, perplexed, looking between Sam and his bondmate.  
_

_“He means like a sire.” Grinning and a mischievous look on his face, Jazz added, “They also call their sires papa, dad, and- “_

_“Please don’t call him ‘Daddy’, Jazz, just please- “_

_“_ Daddy~ _!”_

_Sam swore and covered his ears, complaining that they were now bleeding. Very dramatic. Jazz just pointed and laugh._

_Bumblebee perked up after a bit, “And carriers are ‘mothers’?”_

_“Eh, it doesn’t really have a ring to it, Bee.”_

_His arms were seized gently by the yellow mech, and he came face-to-face with a pair of twinkling optics._

_“Mama?”_

 

Distracted from the relief and the subsequent argument, the group was caught totally unawares when a harpoon jabbed through the car roof. Jazz rudely woke up from the memory, shut off his holo and revved his engines in surprise. His sensors had not warned him of the Decepticon creeping up.

 

_‘A cloaked signature.’_

There were immediately more screaming, and the kids were suddenly meters off the ground with Sam dangling out of the passenger door.

Fuel lines rushing, Jazz transformed and shouted at the car.

 

“Sam! Jump!”

 

Unfortunately, panic caused selective hearing, and Sam continued to cry for Mikaela. And everyone was crying for Sam. Jazz took aim at the helicopter and shot, trying to dislodge the line. Electron shields helped deflect the bullets, and he had to stop once the car was being swivelled to block his aim. Sam was still gripping tightly for his life.

 

“Slag it Sam, jump to me!”

 

The Autobot tried again desperately, yet what he got in return was a look of fear.

The kind so powerful it locks your joints and immobilize you.

Before they knew it, the Decepticon took them over water and the grounder could no longer follow. Even if he could dive in and set his thrusters into gear, he would be at a big disadvantage should more Decepticons arrive. Jazz could only send another emergency signal, this time more urgently, this time without covering his signature.

 

-

 

Not a moment later, he received feedback transmission.

Full of distrust, but also fragile hope.

**_‘Jazz?’_ **

 

-

 

He did not have the courage to respond.

So Jazz told himself he had to concentrate on locating Sam and his friends.

He set his transponder to ping the Autobot frequency every few clicks, the shroud of anonymity back, steeled his mind and tried to conjure the skills he acquired from years of leading sting operations. The helicopter flew northwest, likely heading back towards the place Jazz first got on land, where the Constructicons lugged about.

Wheels screeched against the tarmac as he set full speed to his destination. He could be wrong though, he had after all been found out, but he had a feeling in his gut, a feeling he knew well and decided to trust it. Using his cloaking device, he sped through the highway bypassing traffic sensors. The fair bit of police officers that tried to chase him had their gears locked by his magnets.

Nothing was going to slow him down.

So he told himself that it was all to rescue Sam and his friends, to keep them safe from harm, to once again foil the evil plot of the Decepticons.

He knew it was because he was afraid to face him.

Call it cold feet, then.

 

-

 

“I know you’re pissed, I know you’re pissed because I tried to kill you and it’s completely understandable if I tried to kill me I’d be upset too but - I think we have an opportunity to start anew here and – and develop our relationship and - and see where it leads us, okay so if you just call off the recession or – or sOMETHING LIKE THAT WAIT WAITWAITWAIT-“

It was a close call, but he and Optimus came at the exact moment they needed to.

Sam’s increasingly loud blabbering was a pretty good indication after all.

Bumblebee provided cover fire for Optimus, discouraging Starscream and Grindor from interfering between him and the Decepticon leader. As soon as he spotted Mikaela and the boy he remembered as Sam’s roommate, he pinged Optimus his directives and hoped it was not lost in the chaos.

Transforming to his alt mode, Bumblebee raced toward the two humans.

 

_~Come with me if you want to live._

 

The voice of Arnold Schwarzenegger rang though as he opened his doors.

“Not the time, Bee!” Mikaela almost sobbed out.

He had to agree, as Grindor had noticed he was trying to make a getaway with their captives, though he couldn’t help but joke in these stressful situations.

 

~ _Houston, we have a problem._

 

Mikaela was about to retort again before Leo hurriedly pushed her in. Her face was still furious.

Bumblebee braced for the bullets that would grace his windshields but saw instead a hail of bullets gracing the helicopter’s face. Confused but chose the time to act, he revved his engine before speeding out of the building.

 

“What about Sam?!”

_~He’ll be fine ~A-OK! ~Big boss has ~Got ‘im._

 

He dodged the rotor blades that swiped for him, his passengers ducked and shouted on instinct.

 

“You know, if things weren’t so real and dire, you could almost imagine we’re in an exciting 4D theatre instead of running for our fucking lives.” Leo thought out loud, wishfully.

“ _Almost_ , huh?” Mikaela snarked as the building wall behind them burst with Megatron’s body flinging out.

 

Bumblebee picked up the Autobot frequency and pinged them where they were, requesting that they come **_‘fragging immediately, please’_**. Ratchet did not appreciate his vulgarity.

 

 **‘ _We’re coming as fast as we can you little glitch, arriving in another breem, give or take.’_** He started before Sideswipe had the gall to pipe in a comment about their age. He was in for a verbal lashing of his own, Ratchet promised. **_‘How’re the kids? What’s Prime’s status?’_**

 

Bumblebee was about to debrief them with the situation. Then he realized that his back-up was not supposed to arrive in another breem. The cover fire that saved them from Grindor’s were neither of his friends.

His engines sputtered to a stop.

 

**‘ _Bee?_ ’**

 

Multiple voices called to his name, Bumblebee responded to none of them and made a sharp 180 to tumble Mikaela and Leo out. There were shouts of confusion and indignity, he rung out an apology and told them to stay there, then geotagged their location for his friends to find.

 

**_‘What are you doing now?!’_ **

 

Bumblebee apologized again before closing his end of the link, already heading for the area he deduced the ghost of his past would be.

He needed to know if it was really him that alerted them.

He needed to know he wasn’t crazy.

Bumblebee held the body in his own arms, the bond itself broke, there was no way they had knowingly buried him alive.

Wasn't there?

Then the long nights spent in unrest, thinking about the scene painstakingly over and over _and over_. The mourning and the feelings of hopelessness. The absolute mess he was left from the ordeal. The tantrums, the fights, the thoughts to take his own life...

There was a flash of white in Bumblebee’s periphery, quick and fleeting. He revved his engine, driving faster than he had ever before.

It was not long before he caught up to the tail of the vehicle.

He had no doubt who it belonged to.

 

-

 

There was a loud but broken static of his name being called, begging him to stop.

And it was enough.

Jazz transformed, yet stood stock still, facing away from him. The spark in his chamber pulsed so fast he had to dismiss several alarm feeds, the dread was quickly choking him, and it turned on his cooling systems. Jazz let loose a long low vent of air. His back felt like burning from the intensity of the stare his old love was giving him. It wasn’t long before a pair of hands came up to gently hold his shoulders, the weight achingly familiar, and they slowly turned him around. Hesitantly, he complied.

Bumblebee looked well, if a little haggard, his optics wide with disbelief and wonder and free from all accusations.

It was the look of a mech he desperately missed, a mech that held so much power over him.

Jazz felt like melting in his arms.

 

“Hello, Bee.”

 

A voice from long ago trailed softly.

To Bumblebee, it sounded like a dream. He moved a hand over to a cheek. The helm, now dark instead of silver, still held the familiar shape of his cheek guards, something he stroked often. It felt right in his fingers. Blunt fingers crept to the edge of Jazz's lips, still afraid that this dream was merely that and nothing more.

But the lips opened and said,

 

“Bee, I can explain, I just woke up and I… I didn’t know if you- if you would...”

He could use a lot of explanations by now, pit, he had a lot of things to say too, but what he really wanted to _do_ right now?

 

_**'Primus, Jazz.'** _

 

Bumblebee pulled him into an embrace, and the stuttering words turned into a sob.

Loud and sad but full of relief.

The mech in his arms broke down, shaking and clicking cries, Bumblebee did nothing but held him.

 

“I was so worried you had left...”

 

_~I’ve missed you, Jenny ~You will never age for me, nor fade, nor die._

 

Inside himself, the soul that was writhing full of unrest, fearing and doubting everything Jazz used to know, came to peace with a big sigh. His once mate – no, they were still mates all along – held him tightly, kissing his face as if he could disappear in a moment, sweet and full of love. Jazz returned it with a passion that was buried in his worry, the love that was present but afraid to show itself in case he was turned away. And he had been a fool.

Jazz's spark pulsed with delight, real and tangible and no longer hidden. It elicited an excited trill from the yellow mech.

 

 _~Swoon, I’ll catch you_.

“Right back at you, Honey Bee.”

**Author's Note:**

> I always did wondered where Bumblebee went off to while Optimus was in a 1v3.
> 
> Jazz's paint job was based on the Autobot Jazz (Target Exclusive Deluxe, 2007) toy, which was basically the G1 Racing scheme itself.
> 
> Maybe second to last on the series, depends where the muse will go.


End file.
